


remember me for centuries (or just for a moment, please.)

by socially_inept



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Memory Loss, Non-Canonical Character Death, just in a different way, literally just angst, no happy ending, still dead, well i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 05:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10298114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socially_inept/pseuds/socially_inept
Summary: It’s a game, he thinks, his dad smiling and pretending as if he has never seen Teddy before in his life.  They go through the same conversation every week, and Teddy has yet to tire of his dad’s dedication to this game.Or, Remus has very little memory of his life, and his family live with broken hearts for a while.





	

“And who might you be?”

Teddy smiles, wide and toothy, and his father smiles back at him. It’s a game, he thinks, his hair is a new colour whenever they bring flowers to dad’s hospital bed in St Mungo’s, his dad smiling and pretending as if he has never seen Teddy before in his life. They go through the same conversation every week, and Teddy has yet to tire of his dad’s dedication to this game.

“I’m Teddy,” he announces for the third time that month, shrugging away from Sirius’ hands on his shoulders and jumping straight onto the side of his dad’s bed.

Sirius tuts - and Teddy knows he’ll be scolded later, Remus is sick, _very sick, Edward Lupin_ , and Teddy is ten now, tall for his age, gangly and spindly like a spider that has just hit an awkward growth spurt. He isn’t really listening when Uncle Sirius gets to that bit, but he does nod solemnly and promise that next time he won’t jump about too much. He does it nevertheless.

Remus pats Teddy’s head - lilac hair today, coordinated prettily with the bunch of flowers that Sirius is still holding - and struggles to sit up for a moment before he manages to find his voice.

“Would you like some tea, Teddy?”

And, as he does every week, Teddy says yes, accepts the too-hot mug with its not-sweet-enough traditional English tea, and spends his day telling his father all about his antics of the week.

 

Sirius is a Gryffindor. He’s been brave for a long time, if not always, whenever he can be. He could - he _should_ \- be brave now, for Teddy’s sake, but he can’t bring himself to blink back the tears when they come.

Nymphadora is there, when she needs to be. As is Andromeda and, much to Sirius’ surprise, Narcissa. It is a terrible thing to lose a comrade, a terrible thing to lose a lover, but Sirius has lost his last brother and everything aches.

(He didn’t know that his own body could hold so many tears until the day in the hospital ward when Sirius hugged Remus into him and the man didn’t even know his name.)

 

“Good morning,” Remus says, helping himself to sit up in the bed with a grunt.

“Morning, Mister Lupin,” the boy with mint green hair responds, dipping his head in a nod. “I brought humbugs, the nurse said you like them.”

“Remus, please,” he insists, and gestures for the boy to sit down.

The seat next to his bed his old and worn, but this doesn’t seem to bother the boy, because he nods again in gratitude and settles into the chair. He seems young, perhaps a university, but there is something boyishly endearing about him: as though he hasn’t quite outgrown his open heart.

Remus opens his mouth, but the boy beats him to it. “I’m Teddy.”

He nods approvingly, it’s a sweet name, and with another grunt of pain tries to reach the tea tray on the table next to him.

“Let me,” Teddy protests, immediately jumping to his feet. Something in his voice sounds pained, like he can’t bare to see the old man struggle.

Remus chuckles softly, and pats the boy’s hand. “Good lad, thank you.”

They make light conversation over their tea, chatting about Teddy’s university and his interest in psychology. He wants to teach one day, Remus learns, and tells Teddy that this is admirable.

“I was a teacher once,” he says, “the name of the school has slipped me, mm, but I _was_ a teacher.”

There’s something subtly sad about Teddy’s smile. “I’m sure you were a wonderful teacher, Remus.”

There’s a pause, before Teddy speaks again.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I, I’m getting _married_ , next weekend, and I don’t really feel like I have anyone to ask for advice, you know? I have no idea what I’m doing, if it’s the right move, and I want it so bad, I can’t wait, but what if I’m not ready?”

The words are winged, flying from Teddy’s mouth in a flurry that’s almost too fast for Remus to catch.

“Age,” he says eventually, “has nothing to do with maturity. You love…” He trails off, realising that he doesn’t even know _who_ Teddy is marrying.

“Her,” the boy interjects hurriedly, “Victoire.” There’s a beat, then, “It’s French. Yeah, I love her a lot.”

Remus holds out his hand, and it’s surprisingly not awkward when Teddy obliges him and slips his own fingers against the man’s.

“I’ve never been married, Teddy.”

Something falters in Teddy’s expression - something like grief flickers so briefly across the boy’s features, but it’s gone so soon and with so little trace that Remus thinks he must have imagined it.

“But, I know plenty of people who have. If you love her, if you _really_ love her, talk to her. Maybe she’ll feel the same way, and you can postpone it, or maybe she’ll help to reassure you, but the stereotype that young lovers are too immature to marry shouldn’t dictate what you do with your life.”

Teddy nods, slowly, and Remus decides not to add that he _agrees_ that he seems too young to be married. The silence is comfortable, and it’s past three when Teddy leaves, promising to return with news of wedding bells - or not.

 

Teddy is afraid. Victoire knows it, and she talks to him about it, but that doesn’t soothe his fear. They’re two weeks into their marriage, a beautiful marriage, when the healers at St Mungo’s say that Remus is dying. He’s been dying all this time, she knows, but the news that it will happen _soon_ breaks Teddy’s heart and, in turn, hers.

Remus’ condition, from what people have told her, began when Teddy was eight. It was a treatment for lycanthropy, an attempt at a cure, and when Remus volunteered, they were _proud_ of him. But the cure was a disease - a disease intended to overthrow the lycanthropy but a disease nevertheless - and when something went wrong in Remus’ mind, the healers were forced to rid him of almost all of his memories. The disease continued to eat away at his body, and it’s been twelve years now, but Victoire knows that Teddy still isn’t ready to let his father go just yet.

“There’s nothing,” he sobs into Victoire’s shoulder one night, “there’s nothing we can do.”

She wants to assure him that of course there is, but she is not a woman to lie.

 

When Remus dies, his last words to Sirius are, _And who are you?_

(It’s a full moon that night, Sirius notes with bitter irony when Padfoot screams into the darkness at the loss of his last pack member.)

It shouldn’t end like this, he thinks. Not like this. They were meant to live forever, be immortalised in the stars, in stories of heroism mixed with mischief and love and brotherhood. No, Remus was never meant to go like this, alone in a hospital bed in the middle of the night while the rest of the world sleeps.

Then again, things never do seem to go the way that Sirius hopes - Peter was a traitor, James died young, and Remus.

Oh, Remus.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so I'm not usually an angst writer, and never a poster of angst on AO3, so if you have any comments or advice, let me know!  
> I hope you enjoyed the story, short as it is!
> 
> thank you for reading  
> -dan xx


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